“He hit the first two victims in the back of the head,” Jordan said. “Are there traces of their blood on it?”

“Yes,” Spencer said.

“Who are you talking about?” Dr. Kensington asked.

Spencer hesitated. “Detective Poe was investigating two murders involving head traumas and suffocation.”

She appreciated that he had not lumped her in with the victims. Knowing it was one thing, but hearing it from him was too much right now.

“Open your eyes slowly.”

Her lids were so heavy when she opened them. She searched for the doctor’s face, lost in a dense, dark fog. This time the penlight appeared in her line of sight like a distant lighthouse beacon. “I see the light. That’s good, right?”

“It’s a start,” he said.

“When will I see faces? I need some kind of timeline I can hold on to.” Her tone carried the desperation tightening in her chest.

The doctor hesitated. “It’s impossible to say how long the healing process will take or how far it will go.”

Why was getting a definitive answer so hard? Wasn’t science supposed to have the answers? “I know. But when will it get better?” She could get through this if she had an end date.

“You keep asking me that, and I don’t know, Detective Poe.”

“Why don’t you know?” The darkness tightened around her, revving up her fear and anger. She could deal with this for days, maybe weeks, but she needed to know when this all ended. “You’re a doctor. You are paid to know.”

“We’ll recheck tomorrow.” His voice attempted to be soothing. “I’ll run more tests.”

“Meaning, you are looking for improvement?”

“That’s the hope.”

“Hope is not a solid answer.” She pressed for the response she really wanted, not the one he was giving her. “At least tell me this could get better.”

“It’s possible.”

“That’s what I say to myself when I’m trying to solve the murder case of a homeless junkie. It’s conceivable but not likely.”

“Detective Poe, you’ll need to be in the hospital for a week, maybe longer, so we will continue to monitor you. Don’t panic yet. This is only day one.”

“Technically, it’s day two, and I still can’t see,” she said. “I think I’ve got a right to be upset.”

“Like I said, we’ll do more tests tomorrow. Take it one day at a time.” He spoke more about the eyes and the ocular nerve, but the mechanics meant little to her. Like her car engine, she did not care how the spark plugs fired. She just wanted her engine to turn over.

“How do we fix this?” she asked.

“For now, we don’t,” Dr. Kensington said. “Down the road there’re experiments with stem cells.”

“How long before I can get the stem cells?”

“It’s not something I do, but I have names of doctors.”